Fort Worth daily gazette. (Fort Worth, Tex.) 1882-1891, 1887-01-27
A BULLY PUNISHED.
A Quiet Man suences a Rustler In a
Dreadful Way.

A Quiet Man Slences Kustlsr In q
Dreadful Way.
Chihuahua Letter Philadelphia Call.
One of the notorious characters CT this
section is Three-toed Watson, whose right
first name nobody knows, and whose last
name probably was not Watson in the
states. He is one of the gang called
rustlers who keep on the edge of civil
zation and make it morally ragged.
Three -toed Watson came here with the
railroad, and has made himself IN
pleasantly conspicuous in all the free
fights and fandango ARRAYS that have
varied the otherwise monotonous course
CT things in Chivatito. By shooting two
men and freely flourishing q frontier
revolver in the saloons, Watson has
acquired the coveted notoriety of
being a bad man and chief of the
camp, and also established the custom
among the barkeepers of never charging
him anything for whisky or mescal.
When the railroad went on, Three toed
Watson did not follow with the gang 1t
is not an easy thing to get acknowledged
as chief in railroad camp, but having
got the privileges of free whisky, free
lunches and general bosship of saloons
are too valuable to a frontier tough to be
lightly thrown away or abandoned. Wat
son is very liberal with his privileges,
and never takes q drink without asking
all hands to join him. A refusal to drink
with him is deadly insult, as it conveys
to the mind of Three-toed Watson the in
ference that the person refusing consid-
ers him no gentleman. After to-night's
experience, however, he probably will not
be quite so professingly liberal.
Two mining engineers were sitting at q
table ia a saloon where the bully was
runriDg things, when Watson ordered
everybody up to the bar; one of them, a
German named Winkler, politely declined.
Mr.. Watson produced ponderous pistol,
and, poking the muZzle into Winkle1's
face, he reared:
eyer won't drink with me, yer Dutch
tenderfoot? Reckon yer don't know me.
Pm a bowling blizzard of the prairie, 1
am, and when I'm turned loose it's dirty
work cleaning up the ranch. Pm gen.
tleman, and you'll drink whisky 'Iong o.
me or make soft seat for the coroner"
Mr.. Winkler shut one eye and squinted
into the pistol-barrel and quietly re-
marked:
"Well, if you insist, I'm with you"
Getting up from the table he walked
over to the bar and stood beside Watson,
who fiourished the pistol once more IN
der his nose then returned it to the hol-
ster. Holding whisky glass in his left
hand Winkler took from his vest pocket
six H leadpencil, sharpen
ed to a point. Turning to Three-toed
Watson, he said:
"Look here, sir! You are bigger man
than am, and could whip me if you
wanted without any weapons. | didn't
want to drink, but you pulled pistol and
would have shot me if l hadn't stepped
up here. l carry no arms, you see; moth
ing but pencil"
Here Winkler poised the pencil, which
he grasped firmly with his right thumb
and finger, directly opposite Watson's
face, as though to call attention to the iu-
of his armory and emphasize
his remarks, ct the same time looking the
bully steadily in the eye.
"Now, l want to tell you," he con-
tinued, "that you are sn internal coward
and sCoundrel, and l can lick you with
a led pencil" and just as the bully
reached for his gun the pencil darted for
ward like q flash into his left eye, the
point passing accurately through the
pupil. Three-toed Watson yelled in
agony and fell upon the floor, writhiug
and shrieking. Mr.. Winkler put the PEN
Gil back into his vest pocket, replaced the
whisky upon the bar and went
out. Watson may pull through if he has
luck, but that eye will be Of no more use
to him, and his privileges as bad man
a ra pOne